Weight of the World
by Leni
Summary: Series of oneshots. What if.... Chapter 3. UNFREEZE. Rewrite of 'Night of the Chimera's Cry'
1. Weight Of The World, Ep01 rewrite

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile.  
**WORDCOUNT:** ~4800  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** What if? _You really meant 'no exceptions', didn't you?_ Winry&Ed **_rewrite _**of 'To Challenge the Sun' (Ep 01).  
**FEEDBACK:** Always welcome.

**warnings: **to create this alternate world, many things have changed. Mainly the death of loved characters.

_Runner up at the __**fireandice2008**__ (LJ community)__. Prompt: __**'like a fever'.**_

* * *

**WEIGHT OF THE WORLD  
**_by Leni_

* * *

"Quit the stomping, Ed," Winry grumbled as she heard the thud of his irritated steps against the sand. A small cloud was forming around his feet, sand particles clinging to his shoes and his clothes. Some of them would sneak between body and cloth, rest against skin and against metal, creep into the crevices of the automail… and stay there.

"I'm not." Thud. Thud.

Winry rolled her eyes. They were both bored. Bone-tired. And nowhere near their destination. The water supply Ed had initially balked at carrying was three quarters down, and the quarter left was almost as hot as the air around them. Ice could be made out of that water, but even so it wouldn't last more than another hour - if even that. It was a shame that alchemy couldn't create ice out of sand; after today, Winry promised herself she'd have Ed look into it. "First, I'll draw myself a bath," she said aloud, allowing herself to think of the gentle lap of fresh water against her overheated body.

"We're not on vacation," Ed grunted, never bothering to change his pace.

She glared at the back of his head. "Tell me you weren't thinking the same thing." He kept quiet. "Thought so." And to think Ed had called her pampered for insisting they take along some fresh water; they'd probably be dehydrated already if a quick jab to his midside hadn't shown him the logic of her suggestion. "I hope Lior has decent rooms," Winry sighed. She took off the wide-brimmed hat and fanned herself with it. She gave up soon after; the movement only brought the stifling air against her face.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Another sigh - if she weren't exhausted, she'd be stomping her way to the city, too. "We'll need gallons of oil," she commented casually.

Somewhere between a growl and a whine, "I'll be fine."

"Please." Any other day, Winry would have wrenched him for giving so little consideration to her and her work. Luckily for Ed, she decided to save the angry rant for a place where she wasn't about to melt. "I can hear you creak from over here."

"I don't-!" A choked protest right before a louder version of the telling sound echoed between them. "The hell with it," he muttered, glaring at his left leg.

"You should have pressed for a vehicle," she said again. Winry knew it was a useless tack, that it had been useless from the moment Edward left Mustang's office with his new orders. Once more she wished the mission hadn't included this nightmarish trudge under the midday sun. She could feel her own sweat making her clothes cling uncomfortably to her skin. Not one point of relief since they'd started - if she woke up and discovered she'd been sick and hallucinating, she'd probably rejoice in the fact. "Even a bike would be good."

"And have it sink in the sand every minute. Really clever, Winry."

See? Useless. This particular conversation had steadily gone downhill since they left Central, from patient explanations to full-blown snide comments. "Right. Because geniuses know better than to take actual cars when crossing a desert. No - wait. They don't!"

He sighed, slowing down so that now they walked side by side. "Seen any cars lately? We were lucky that cart took us to the edge of the desert. Nobody around here owns one, and we must blend in. Mustang's orders."

Winry particularly disliked it when he was the reasonable one. They'd had this argument since they started, four hours ago, and she knew that they kept circling through the same questions and answers. Ironically, the knowledge didn't stop Winry from bringing it up more often the longer the journey - if she was going to suffer through a seven-hour trek through scalding sand while Ed marched on unblinkingly, then she'd make damn sure that he shared in. "Blend in? Right. Because you're perfect for that."

Amazing how Ed's face could redden so fast. His long coat fluttered in a circle around him, making the sand billow wildly as he turned to face her. "Who are you calling pea-sized runt that no Lior citizen would notice walking in their streets!"

**xxx**

_((After Granny's death, it had taken forever until Winry could smile again. Not literally, of course; but in all the ways that mattered, it had been forever. First she'd been too numb, too shocked to do much more than eat what she was offered and sleep when she felt tired. It was like she was walking in somebody else's shoes. Fever dreams, she'd told herself over and over as she hugged herself. Just fever dreams and Granny would come soon and cure her._

But she didn't.

The doctor and his wife had taken her in. Poor girl, she heard them say. And every time he came close, all she saw was his hand around her grandmother's wrist… all she heard was his whispered explanation. Her heart, he had said. Pinako had been a strong woman, but her heart hadn't kept up.

Two weeks later she'd run away.

Not to Granny's house, no. She hadn't wanted to be alone anymore.

Instead she had run to their_ house. Because they were alone, too, and at the same time they weren't. They had each other. Maybe they could have her, too, and she'd only ask to have them in return. It seemed so simple a decision, just like choosing which metal alloy belonged to the construction of arms and which to the construction of legs._

It was easy. Too easy.

Years later, she could still picture herself as she must have looked like that night. Clad in a dark colored dress (not black. never again), one that was already a little too loose (she'd lost so much weight after her grandmother's funeral), her braid undone and hair wild around her face. She had flung the study's door open, knowing them to be behind it. And they had been. Candlelight and Ed's blond hair hidden behind the largest book she'd ever seen - the book dropped to the floor when he noticed her: that was the sight she remembered the most. Al's voice calling her name, inviting her in - he'd sounded so worried, so hesitant, so afraid to break her: that was the accompanying sound.

"Can I stay?"

They had nodded in unison. No hesitation at all. And she'd known - known_ - that she was home again._

She had smiled then, when forever finally seemed to settle into a specific night. She had smiled, maybe even laughed, and she'd run blindly towards them…

…and they had caught her.))

_  
_**xxx**

Winry had to fight hard not to laugh. Oh, Ed. Half a decade and more trials than anybody should have to face, and he was still the little boy who'd discovered that the next door neighbor was half an inch taller than him. "Actually," and she couldn't help the small grin, "I was being sarcastic."

"Oh." He deflated instantly.

Winry had taken two steps forward when Ed realized that sarcasm wasn't much better.

"Hey!"

She smiled to herself. For that one second, they weren't surrounded by miles of sand, they weren't on a military mission, they weren't the Fullmetal Alchemist and his mechanic. It was Resembool again, and she'd just dropped a ladybug down his shirt - "Try and catch me," she murmured. "Come on, Ed," more loudly, "We must get there before you start on your chameleon act -" He was glowering at her back; Winry knew it just as she knew that his leg would need a check up upon arrival. "- and stop pouting. Doesn't look good on a State Alchemist."

"I was _not_."

Winry winced as he kicked against the sand. She could picture the angry particles accumulating between the layers of metal, attaching themselves to the automail parts and interrupting the seamless movement that made Ed's left leg her masterpiece. She could see it already, that she would not spend her first hours in Lior in a refreshing bath or a well deserved nap, oh no. She would be too busy keeping Ed in one place so she could take a look at his leg.

With a bucketful of oil at her side.

Meanwhile, unaware or probably indifferent to her thoughts, Edward plodded on behind her. Purposely loud.

Not for the first time, Winry wished _she_ could calm Ed down and make him see reason - without losing her own temper in the process. Because she'd discovered the hard way that if she was angry enough, and loud enough, and… well, _scary_ enough, then Ed would force himself into the mature role, leave aside all childish behavior and - irony of ironies - attempt to pacify _her_. It was too hot to be scary, though. Too wretched a day to be wishing for Al to be to voice of reason. "If that leg stops working and I have to carry you the rest of the way, I swear, Edward Elric…"

"You won't?" He looked unfazed by the idea.

And well he should. "Of course I would, you idiot." Because she'd never ever abandon him, not for anything. "But I'd also turn around and _you_ can explain to Mustang why the mission wasn't completed."

Ed peered at her for a moment, then shrugged and moved forward.

She didn't say anything else either, falling into step beside him and going back to wishing Lior had decent rooms for tourists. Far ahead - too far, she thought - Winry could make out the gray walls that surrounded the city. Such a small place, it seemed. So removed from anywhere else. Why would it call the attention of the military? All Ed could tell her was that there were reports of 'unusual activity' in the area, and that said activity seemed to correspond with alchemy. Important enough to warrant sending a State Alchemist, but not to send someone higher up the chain of command.

It reminded Winry of days long gone. Shortly after her parents had died, Granny had started giving her small tasks in her automail shop. To keep her distracted, maybe, but soon the habit had become the beginning of her formal training.

These rumors about Lior were Mustang's idea of rusty screws needing replacement.

**xxx**

_((After Alphonse's… disappearance, it was forever until they could function normally again. Forget smiling. Forget laughing. It took all of their strength to open their eyes every morning, and at night the nightmares of that night closed in on them mercilessly._

_"I still can…. Yes. I still can…." Ed's whispers as he trashed in the bed. The movement made him whine in her sleep, as the bandaged stump scraped against the bedding. Silence and then a cry, a name. His brother's name. Fever dreams, for real this time. Winry stayed watchful as his temperature spiked and ebbed away again, spike and ebb…. The doctor didn't look hopeful, but even at eleven Winry knew that hope was a lot like alchemy: useless unless used correctly. She stayed at his bedside, and on one of those nights, with him half conscious and staring past her in hopes that Alphonse would come into the room, she made a pledge: never. Never would she let him go. Never would he be alone. And she knew - _knew_ - that she would keep that promise until the end of time._

_"I still can save Al," Ed said clearly one morning. The fever was gone then, and it was too late to save anybody._

_"I'm sorry." Winry's responding cry. Because it was her fault. She hadn't been supposed to be there - both of them had told her again and again to stay in her bedroom. But she couldn't. Their mother's bed was immense around her, and the thought (the hope) that its owner might_ _be coming to life some stories below…. She couldn't have stayed. No. They could have asked for anything except that she kept herself away on that night._

_She had crept downstairs, sat by the closed door and waited. Waited for the noises to die down. Waited for the flash of light… and then there'd been a scream._

_Only Edward had been inside when she rushed in. Only Edward and a pool of blood around him._

_He'd been babbling about going back. Going back for Alphonse._

_And she hadn't let him. Clung to him and refused to let him go._

_Years later Winry still thought back to that decision. One little girl and the weight of the world, their world, on her shoulders. Winry remembered her choices: the possibility of recovering Alphonse, the possibility of losing Edward for good._

_It had never been a choice.))_

**xxx**

"I'd be fine, Win," he said suddenly. It was later, and the walls looked tall and imposing before them. It was so much later that she didn't have a clue what he was talking about. The confusion must have showed in her face, because Ed smiled briefly and raised his arm in a half circle around them. "A little sand has nothing on Rockbell mastery," he said, "Of course I'd be fine. I have the finest automail in Amestris," he patted a cloth-covered metal knee, "and the mechanic that matches. Or you think they'd let anyone travel with their best alchemist?"

She chuckled. Half because of his lack of modesty, half because she knew of the rumors in Central, the raised eyebrows every time someone heard of the teenage girl traveling alongside a State Alchemist. People, especially people who'd known of Granny, would look at Winry in complete bafflement, and she'd see in their eyes the same question she'd faced for the last years: _Why are you with him? Why, when you could do so much better, be so much more?_ "And don't you forget it, Elric." She even wagged a finger at him, laughing when he did. "Where that leg goes, so do I. No exceptions."

"No exceptions," he echoed.

They crossed the gate at the same time, and once inside looked around - Ed, for any sign of something worth investigating; Winry, for that room she'd daydreamed about for hours. But despite knowing where their priorities lay, both their gazes locked on the fountain in the middle of the crossing.

"Is that…"

Ed had already dropped their oversized bottle. "Fresh water!"

Winry blushed as some passer-bys turned at the sound and stared disapprovingly as some leftover drops of water dribbled onto the ground. Luckily, most of them seemed transfixed by the deep voice coming from every radio around them; but Winry knew well that if anyone could attract attention it was one Edward Elric, and in her experience it never bode well for either of them. "Ed!" Embarrassed, she hissed his name - and reached out before he could make a fool out of himself in the middle of the city. She'd seen him after Izumi's lessons, when the boys would drag themselves into the house panting and willing to do anything for a glass of water. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could come between a thirsty Edward and the nearest source of water. "Don't." She barely managed to catch one red sleeve, but fastened her hand around it and didn't let go.

The force of her grip unbalanced him; but he quickly straightened. "But, Winry…."

"So that is blending in," she said, adopting a scolding tone. "I'll make sure to update Hawkeye."

Ed's eyes went round at the same time he docilely came to stand at her side, no more mad dashes in his plans. For all of Winry's threats to tell the Colonel of Ed's shortcomings, Ed knew that she'd never do it. Hawkeye's anger, on the other side, was a risk he didn't intend to take. "Nobody noticed a thing," he mumbled, and he scowled at a woman who was staring at them curiously. The woman turned briskly and walked away. "See?"

Winry shook her head. "Good boy," and she patted his shoulder. "Now, let's find us a nice room." So far, she hadn't seen a single sign offering the usual commodities for the weary foreigner - no wonder, she didn't think people were eager to go across deserted miles of sand in order to get here. "There must be _some_ place," she said stubbornly and gave a determined step forward.

"Difficult task, that one," someone whistled from behind them.

Winry swiveled around, and what happened next could only be attributed to surprise and the worst luck ever. She let out a small cry as her elbow hit against something hard. The something hard wobbled for a few seconds on its already feeble perch; then, before anyone could do anything except gape at the sight, it started its decent to the ground - not before it had knocked three towers of glasses the stand-owner had just placed there.

Even Ed flinched as the glass crashed. Everything seemed to stop at the square, and everyone turned to the scene. "Are you okay?" In a flash, Ed had grasped Winry by her shoulders and turned her toward him, taking his time to inspect her from head to toes.

To herself, she thought it was a damn good thing that she'd traded her usual shorts for long pants for the trek through the desert. Otherwise, she'd surely have glass scratching her skin from knee to ankle. "I'm fine," she answered.

Ed looked her over again, and once he seemed convinced she was unharmed, unhanded her and put an aggravated hand to his forehead, "Now _that_ helped to blend in. Thank you, Winry."

Winry felt herself turn red at the words.

"Miss?"

She felt even more flushed as she turned around and bowed her apologies to the owner. "I'm so sorry. I didn't notice I was so close to your… your…." It didn't take her professional eye long to discern what the broken pieces had been before she bumped into them. Neither did it take her long to know that the damage was mostly superficial, "I can repair it, sir."

The man looked at the wires and bolts strewn on the ground, then at her. "I…."

"It's a lost cause," one of the patrons intervened, shaking his head at the mess.

"Hey, old man. If she says she can, then she can." Ed glared up at both men, and Winry wondered if he knew that he'd stepped between her and them. "Winry is the best mechanic in Amestris." He sounded proud, and Winry was ridiculously happy for it. Edward seldomly felt he had something to be proud of.

"That little girl?" A third man, a younger one, laughed. "Better watch your boyfriend's mouth, girlie. It'll get you into trouble one day."

If he only knew, Winry thought as she fought down the bright blush at the mention of the word 'boyfriend'. It wasn't the first time such an assumption was made, and it wouldn't be the last; but Winry wished she cared less when Ed dispelled them. Loudly.

She sighed as he squared his shoulders and lifted a corner of his mouth. She knew that smirk. Had seen it numerous times in her life; first when he'd sneaked behind Bertie Tyle at the edge of the pond - the same Bertie who'd pushed Alphonse in recess - and only three days ago when he'd transmuted Havoc's pack of cigarettes into a 'Dating For Dummies' manual after the older man had made kissing sounds while Edward explained his new assignment to her. Poor Havoc had looked so miserable at the sudden loss that Winry hadn't had the heart to wrench him herself.

The men taunting Ed now wouldn't fare much better. Oh well. "I don't think Mustang bought that 'chameleon' thing, anyway," she muttered as she collected the largest piece and inspected it carefully. She lowered it gently and looked around for the next piece; nodding absently to herself, she reached into her jacket and withdrew a screwdriver….

To an onlooker, it would have seemed strange to discover a blonde girl fully concentrated on her work as three men and a small boy squabbled not a yard away from her. Such onlooker, of course, would never have been treated to a dose of Edward and Alphonse Elric as they fought for the biggest piece of cake. Neither would this onlooker ever have studied the principles of automail mechanics while two boys and their teacher trained next to her - Winry doubted anyone but her could suspect the amount of yelling, swearing and screaming that could take place in a training session under Izumi Curtis.

The noise from this fight?

It didn't even figure in her radar.

"There you go," she smiled in triumph as she put the repaired radio back in its place. It looked a little worse to wear; but when she turned it on, it worked beautifully.

The sound caught the attention of the owner, who'd so far been distracted by Ed's antics. "Wow," he looked a little too impressed, like someone who had never believed she could do it. Winry swallowed the scowl at such short-sightness and instead smiled brightly. "Hey, guys," the man cried out, "Look!"

His friends gave Ed a last glare, then turned back to the stand. And gaped.

Edward grinned smugly. "Told you so."

Winry smiled, and put her tools back to their especially made pocket in the inside of her jacket. Early on she'd learned that traveling with the Fullmetal Alchemist meant to always have strategic equipment ready at hand.

"Well, I'll be," one of the men laughed. "You are quite a wonder, missy. Seems Lior attracts the right kind of people lately."

"We've been blessed, indeed," the stand-owner added. "And if you still want to stay in the city, I'll make sure you find comfortable lodgings for the night."

"That'd be nice," Winry said. Finally. Not even these last events had made her forget how much she longed for a bed and a bathtub. And not in that order. "Thank you." She gave Ed a look. Ed rolled his eyes to the sky, refusing to add his own thanks. Winry widened her smile a little more, hoping it would make up for her companion's lack of manners.

"My sister may be able to help," the man continued agreeably. "Just let me sweep that mess first - we don't want somebody to cut themselves on all that glass, do we? - and I'll take you to her house. Dowl, that's my nephew, has left town, looking for rice seeds to plant in the spring."

"Rice seeds!" One of the patrons chortled. "Gone to court Miggs' daughter, is more like it. Just like his uncle, isn't he, Pry?"

Pry shrugged. "Be that as it may, I'm sure Hattie will be glad to offer his room to such a young couple while her son's gone."

"We are not - ouch!"

Winry refused to feel guilty about stepping on his right foot. She also ignored his glare as he moved out of her reach. Instead she smiled at their unexpected benefactor. "That'd be lovely!"

"You're looking kind of purple, son," the youngest man noted, amused. "Hey, maybe we did get it wrong. Are you her kid brother, boy?"

"Ed," she tried. But he was too far away to haul him in.

Ed had already fisted his hands at his sides and was stalking up to the man.

Winry sighed.

"Are you saying I'm so small I wouldn't fit in her pocket if I tried?!"

The man blinked. "I never-"

Too late.

Winry winced as Ed grabbed the man's arm and twirled him around without so much as a warning. "Ah…," she started when she felt the owner's startled gaze move to her. "It's kind of a sore subject," she said lamely, "Height, I mean."

"I'd say," the befuddled man said. A small curious crowd was assembling around them, whispering about the 'rowdy newcomers'. Winry wanted nothing more than to borrow some of Ed's alchemy and sink into the ground.

"Hello, everyone," a new voice greeted them. Winry turned to find the voice's owner standing next to her; it was a girl her age, her dark hair interrupted by bangs of dark pink. She was carrying two paper bags and tilted her head when she noticed Winry. The brunette offered a small smile before raising an eyebrow at the commotion. "Is everything alright?"

Winry looked at the fight with a clinical eye. Ed looked fine, and after those hours under unforgiving sun and sand, it seemed that his left leg was holding out after all. Maybe she really had been fretting for nothing - not that it would stop her from sitting Ed down and checking every joint at the earliest chance. To the girl, she just shrugged. "Just boys being…."

At that moment, Ed seemed to register the new presence. What a whole crowd had been unable to do was accomplished by this girl. He stopped and glanced at the newcomer sheepishly.

Winry narrowed her eyes.

The other girl smiled pleasantly.

"Just perfect," Winry muttered to herself, watching the small exchange closely. "Edward!" she growled when Ed took too long to react, "You done there?"

Ed's head snapped up at the sound of his full name. He turned to Winry, looking a little surprised at her lack of patience, and shrugged afted he had spared a glance to his opponent. The man was groaning as he tried to roll his shoulder backwards. "Looks like it."

Winry nodded, then took a deep breath before facing Pry. "Do you still want us at your sister's?" she asked in a hopeful whisper, pulling on her best innocent look. Inwardly, she wanted nothing more than to pull at Ed's braid until he realized what a fool he was. Jeopardizing the one decent shelter they may be able to find in the city, really!

The man opened his mouth, looking warily at Edward out of the corner of his eye as he walked back to them. Indecision turned to shock as the minuscule shards in front of his stand started to shake and, after a flash of light, reassembled themselves back into his stack of glasses. "What… What's that?"

Everybody gasped at the sight.

Edward, of course, looked immensely pleased with himself. "That's for getting us a room," he told the slack-jawed man. It obviously had never crossed his mind that a stranger might reconsider leaving them under his sister's roof after having witnessed Ed's outburst. "Better than a thank you, huh?" This, he addressed to Winry.

Winry smiled despite herself. That was Ed, with his heart in the right place even when he had no sense of proper timing and place. People were staring openly at him, going as far as to point at the innocent-looking glasses and then at Edward.

"A miracle," the girl of the pink bangs breathed, her face full of amazement.

Winry took a step back, finding something unnerving in such a fervent reaction, only to notice that everybody around them wore a similar expression. Miracle. The word spread like wildfire among the people. First a whisper, then an echo, until it reached a sort of reverence she hadn't heard since Edward and Alphonse planned to bring their mother back. That had ended in disaster, and ten minutes later, when the misunderstanding had been solved and it was clear that Ed wasn't Father Cornello's disciple, a shiver started up Winry's spine and she knew - _knew_ - that whatever she and Ed had just unearthed wouldn't be any better.

"You're coming. Right, Winry?"

She nodded. A reflex more than anything else. Because she had followed Ed into the military, even though the military had caused her parents' deaths. She had gone with the brothers to Izumi's house, even when Rezembool had been her home since she'd been born. She would have gone to Yock Island, too, if Sig hadn't held her despite her yelling and kicking. Edward had her, and she had him - anything else was a mere detail. "Where?"

"To meet this Cornello guy."

"Father Cornello," the girl - Rose - corrected.

"Yeah, him," Ed said unrepentantly. "I want to see what he can do."

And how he did it, Winry filled in his unvoiced reason.

"Or you could check out if we really can stay at his nephew's room," Ed nodded to the man behind the counter. "Might save us some time if we take separate routes…" He noticed her look. "…or not." He looked at her and a rare smile appeared on his face. Not his trademark smug smirk, or even the one that told her he couldn't imagine life without her. It was as simple as the smile of a regular boy, a content boy - and the most precious for the same reason. "You really meant 'no exceptions', didn't you?"

Winry shrugged, wondering what he could read in her responding smile. "Knowing you, someone needs to look out for you. As always."

For one moment their eyes connected and she could recount every step that had brought them here: his mother, her grandmother, Alphonse. Mistake upon mistake, and them trying to make the best out of it.

"I'm glad that someone is you, Winry."

Then he turned on his heels and started a conversation with Rose about the 'miracles'. The moment was gone, but Winry took one more second to breathe it in and commit it to memory. Then she bowed to their impromptu benefactor, "We'll be back later. Please wait for us?"

The man nodded. "Of course. A State Alchemist in the flesh, and the cutest mechanic too." He chuckled at her face. "And the smartest, of course," he pacified her. "Hattie will be happy, she will. Now go," he waved her away, "Your boyfriend doesn't strike me as a patient guy."

She laughed at the understatement, and for the first time, didn't even try to protest the mistaken assumption.

* * *

**The End**  
14/09/08

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Hope you liked it! As always, reviews are loved. :)


	2. Like A River Through Me, prequel

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_** _I really recommend reading this story at **kitteninthedark dot livejournal dot com slash 132848 dot html**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Hiromu Arakawa.  
**WORDCOUNT:** If I did it right, 50x100. Select text to see prompts - if you're reading this at LJ.  
**SUMMARY:** What if...? Three kids on a different path. This is anime based, so they should be around 10-11 years old. Prequel to Weight of the World. **Warning:** Character Death.  
**A.N.:** Prompts stolen from **x_men100**. I'll do the other fifty some other day.  
**A.N.2:** Sorry about the format. I'm experimenting.  
**DEDICATION:** For Sharon, on her birthday. :)  
**FEEDBACK:** Always welcome.

_Winner at **fma_fic_contest**. Prompt 10: AU._

* * *

**LIKE A RIVER THROUGH ME  
**_by Leni_

* * *

Water didn't care about grief.

Winry's eyes followed the clear tickle, too thin to even be called a stream, as it ran down a smooth path engraved in the rock, curved into the grass and disappeared into an overgrown set of bushes some yards ahead.

Water didn't care about death.

If there were enough water, she would take off the oppressing dress she was wearing and jump in. It was too cold for a swim, with the summer day already approaching its end; but Winry only wanted the break.

The chance to escape her life and pretend.

Water didn't care.

.

She could have gone to the river instead. It was closer to town, and she wouldn't have snagged her skirts in countless thorns and branches along the way. She'd even intended to go to her favorite spot, that place where she'd watch the boys as they fished and then laughed when the fish dragged them face-first into the water…

But she'd marched past the riverbank, and past the schoolhouse, and past her old house and the Elrics'.

And if her dress ended up too torn and unfit to wear at any other occasion, then she was glad of her choice.

.

No river then, but this hidden clearing.

The place where she'd often laid down and closed her eyes as she made a mental recount of everything she'd learned at the shop, while Edward and Alphonse practiced their alchemy some steps away. Winry had figured out a more secure way to replace a bent metal finger so it wouldn't bend again; the boys had mastered shaping rock into swords.

Maybe it was no wonder that her steps had lead her here.

In their whole world (the village, the river, the forest) _this_ was now the closest thing to home they had.

.

Winry had been the one to discover this corner of the woods. Curiosity had prompted her to investigate a buzzing sound and after forging ahead, retracing her steps, and then doing it again, she'd found a giant nest of ladybugs crawling over a dead trunk.

She'd looked on, amazed by the black and red stirring lazily against each other, and thought of nothing but that the boys would love to see it.

She should have kept the secret, Winry reflected now, as she heard the bushes behind her being parted.

"Winry?" That was Alphonse.

Edward sounded irritated, "There you are!"

.

"I hate black." The little girl didn't look back at the brothers, but rather stared ahead. "I'll always hate black," and she tugged at the lacy hem of her long sleeve.

"Winry…." Alphonse stopped, scrambling for words of comfort.

Edward did not. "Everybody's looking for you."

Winry shrugged, still not facing them.

"You shouldn't have run, Winry," Edward insisted. "Mrs. Malcolm is so worried. She and the doctor have been all over Resembool looking for you."

"I was here."

"We were worried, too," Alphonse said, in a tone quieter than his brother's.

Winry turned toward him. "I won't go back."

.

It was a useless thought, she knew that. By dusk she'd be back in her new room, putting away her clothes into unfamiliar closets and unknown drawers. She would spend the night there, and the next, and the next after that, until one day _maybe_ Dr. Karl Malcolm and his wife would let her visit an automail master so that she could continue her studies.

It was a useless thought, but for now she clung to it. She'd follow that line of water until it met a real stream, and then a river, and then the ocean.

She'd fade away.

.

"Don't be stupid!" Edward snapped as he stalked toward her, invading her invisible bubble and shattering it when he plopped down at her right. "You can't live in the forest on your own, you idiot."

"Brother, you shouldn't…." But Alphonse stepped forward too, easing into a seating position at Winry's other side, flanking her between them. "Doctor Karl is a very kind man," he said.

"I know," Winry replied, avoiding the younger boy's gaze.

"And you like his wife. Remember when she stood in for Miss Laura last year?"

Edward wrinkled his nose. "She was _boring_."

"Brother!"

But Winry giggled.

.

Her hands flew to her mouth in the next second, horrified by her action. The boys' expressions said that they understood, that they also found it difficult to balance the good things that happened with the sadness of the last weeks.

She wasn't surprised when each took one of her wrists and pulled them back onto her lap.

Winry had thought she had understood before, that she shared in their pain because of her own past. But her parents had died so long ago; life with her grandmother had healed her.

That meant she'd heal again, right?

It had to.

.

"I'd never been happier to see Miss Laura than when she got over the flu," Edward said, drawing her from her darker thoughts.

Winry thought back to last autumn. The change of season always left a wake of sniffling, coughing people. "Yeah, because you managed to catch the last of it." Nobody sniffled and coughed louder than Edward when it got him out of school.

"Dumb luck," Edward grinned.

"Brother passed it to us, too," Alphonse remembered.

And if Granny hadn't threatened to ban her from the automail shop, she'd have trudged to class and hauled the brothers with her.

.

"With perfect timing," Edward said, "by the time we went back to school, there was no sign of Mrs. Malcolm." His little brother nodded. "Who thought a doctor's wife would make a good teacher, anyway?"

Winry frowned. "She did teach before she got married, Ed."

"Good thing she snatched a husband before we started school, then," the older boy chuckled.

"Edward!"

He turned to her, all innocence. "Yeah?"

"That wasn't a nice thing to say. Right, Al?" Alphonse started picking on a hole in his gray pants. "Boys!" Winry huffed. "You said she was okay."

"We said _you_ liked her."

.

"That's right. She didn't believe you boys could do alchemy," Winry remembered, a little calmer now. With her mind more pleasantly focused, only her fingers betrayed her, fiddling with the edges of her mourning dress. "She wanted you to write four full pages -"

"'I must not tell lies in the classroom'," Edward chanted, rolling his eyes. "She was so angry when I asked whether that meant I could tell lies outside school."

Al shook his head. "So she added, 'or anywhere else.' to our punishment."

"In the end you never did it," Winry reminded them. "Your mom… She…."

Sudden silence.

.

None of the three kids would look at each other. The wound was still too fresh, and they were thrown back a few weeks, to another sad meeting after another funeral. Back then, Winry's dress had been bought in a rush (Trisha Elric's passing shocked everybody) and fitted by the local seamstress overnight.

The next day, Winry had stuffed the depressing memento into the deepest parts of her closet, and hoped never to have to see it again.

Not a month later, Mrs. Malcolm pulled it out and ironed it in the next room while Winry cried herself to sleep.

.

"Mom was great that time," Alphonse said, and for everyone's sake he tried to smile.

Edward fisted his hands. "She was _always_ great," he muttered.

Both boys could remember that morning, the eager walk to school with their mother a few steps behind them. It was one of the few times both had been looking forward to their classes, since Mother had said that they could show - not show off! - their talents to their teacher's substitute.

"She looked so proud of you," Winry told them, letting go of her dress so she could place a hand on each boy's arm.

.

"She even wore her green dress, the pretty one that reached her ankles." This time Alphonse's smile looked a little more genuine. He plucked one strand of grass, turning it in the sunlight until it matched the exact shade of his memories. "It was her favorite."

Under her touch, Winry could feel Edward relax even as he shook his head. "Her favorite was the blue one. She always wore it for our birthday parties."

Because the eventual cake prints blended with the pattern, Winry knew, while the green one was the prettiest their mother had. "She loved her yellow sundress."

.

Both boys turned toward her. "How'd you know that?" Edward asked, eyebrows furrowed at the uncomfortable thought that anyone outside their little family knew their mother better than they had.

Winry was quick to catch onto his mood. "She said so," she answered, and too late she realized that the vague answer would prompt more questions.

"She did?" Alphonse didn't disappoint. He'd always hung around their mother, eager for stories about their father despite Edward's scowls. After the funeral, he'd started asking Grandma about Trisha's youth, or about the Elric family from when he and Edward had been babies. "When?"

.

Used to fingering her tools when she searched her memories, Winry started toying with the tiny buttons of Ed's cuff. "It was that time I was so mad at you, I wouldn't play with you." At their blank looks, she narrowed it down. Everybody in town knew that the Elric boys had a knack for turning the quiet, well-behaved Rockbell girl into a yelling tornado that chased them across roads and fields. "That big beetle in Rosie's knapsack?"

"I told her I was sorry!" Edward sulked.

Not because he'd felt guilty.

"Only because Winry made you," Alphonse echoed her thoughts.

.

Edward leaned forward so he could glare at his brother without Winry blocking the effect. "Cole had just thrown you into the lake."

Winry tugged on his sleeve. "And that was a good reason to scare his little sister with the meanest bug in Resembool?"

Edward shrugged. Defending his actions would only lead to another three days of Winry ignoring him.

Winry sighed. Edward was usually patient and kind with the smaller kids; but his protectiveness of Alphonse knew no bounds. An eye for an eye had been his reasoning, and it'd taken three days until he'd understood his mistake.

.

"Anyway," Winry returned their conversation to their earlier tack, "so I was mad because of Rosie. When you came over, I stayed with your mom and Granny." Auntie Trisha had said that she was growing into a gracious young lady, and Winry remembered blushing at the praise. Always with her head in boyish games or automail, 'gracious' had been the last adjective anyone would have bestowed on her. "We had tea, and your mom brought a batch of her best cookies."

"Chocolate!" Alphonse cried out, making a pleased sound.

Edward sighed, and she patted his wrist without a second thought.

.

"Yes, chocolate." Both women had been pleased at her presence. Probably because she hadn't gulped down her tea, grabbed two extra cookies and run outside to join the boys. "Then they talked."

"About what?"

**XXX**

_"It's rare for you to be this quiet," Grandma commented, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "What went wrong?"_

_"Nothing, Granny." Childhood's unwritten rule was to keep the grown-ups in the dark._

_These grown-ups, though, knew their children too well. "What did they do this time?" Aunt Trisha asked, her clear eyes so unlike her sons' and yet they reflected the same openness._

**XXX**

Winry smiled. "Us."

**XXX**

_Tea served, Grandma Pinako turned to her friend. "Ed is making fast progress with the basic circles," she started, "Soon he'll want to see his father's more advanced books."_

_Winry's ears perked up. It was so rare to hear about Mr. Elric. For years she'd believed that the man was dead until, after her parents' death and in some attempt at comfort that could only make sense to Edward, Ed had told her that a dead father was better than an absent one. She had yelled at him then, but now she remembered his words and couldn't help but agree._

_._

_Aunt Trisha was shaking her head. "He's too busy making sure that Al catches up with him."_

_"He is a good older brother," Granny said as she stirred the sugar in her cup. "But it's clear that Ed is eager for more. He's even been pestering around the house to let him transmute my furniture."_

_The younger woman laughed. "He's already gone through ours. I actually love the three-legged chair they managed last week. Al was so proud."_

_"But it's crooked," Winry piped in._

_"It's still beautiful, and one day it'll remind them that they weren't always perfect," she smiled._

_._

_Winry noticed that Granny wasn't so amused. She returned a brief smile to her friends' mother and, snatching one cookie, sat back in her best impression of seen-but-not-heard. Her grandmother's brow had crinkled as the conversation unfolded, and Winry didn't want it directed at her. "Children should learn rules, Trisha, especially those with great skills."_

_Aunt Trisha's face was still placid, but her voice hardened just a bit. "You are training a ten-year-old, and she's turning out well. My boys will be fine."_

_"Or they'll end up like -"_

_Winry's cookie made a loud crunching sound._

_Granny never finished that sentence._

**XXX**

"She must have meant our father," Edward interrupted, biting out the word with disgust.

"Or some rogue alchemist, like in the war stories," Alphonse tried.

"I don't know," Winry said, even though she agreed with Edward. As similar as the boys were, she knew that in some key issues their views were opposite. Alphonse would always be optimistic about their father's return and keep the memories of their mother with love and fondness rather than sorrow. Edward refused to consider that choice. "But they dropped the subject," she continued the tale, "and after more tea, they started talking about clothes."

.

"Are you sure she said yellow?" Alphonse asked, rolling the grass blade between his fingers. "She looked so pretty in that green dress."

"Your mom mentioned that she loved the golden trim, that it reminded her of…" 'my men's eyes'. At the time, Winry had thought it an odd phrasing to refer to her sons, but now she wondered if Aunt Trisha hadn't included someone else in those memories. "It reminded her of you," she said instead, "of your eyes."

Edward glanced at her, having noticed the pause, but only set his mouth into a grim gesture and didn't comment.

Alphonse leaned back until he was lying on the grass, using his left arm as a pillow but careful not to dislodge Winry's grasp from his other wrist. "I wonder if they're talking about us now," his voice carried such wistfulness that even Edward looked up at the sky, hope and skepticism warring in his features.

He didn't believe in the afterlife; he and Granny had argued about that. In a heated moment, he'd called her grandmother a fool, and even though he'd apologized immediately, Winry knew that he wanted to say the same to his brother.

But he wouldn't.

.

"Perhaps," Winry answered, and wondered if her parents would join them.

"I hope Aunt Pinako doesn't tell mom about how we still manage to burn our meals when we're supposed to just reheat them," Alphonse continued. "Our stove is tricky, even when Brother tries his best."

There was a sound at her right. If it was a scoff or a sob, she'd never find out as its owner scrambled to his feet. He'd have headed off too; but, desperate to keep him where he belonged, Winry reached out, took a hold of his trousers pocket and pulled him back down.

.

Edward rounded on her, golden eyes bristling. But Winry was ready. This wasn't the first time she and Ed butted heads over something that wouldn't make sense to anyone else, and it wouldn't be the last. But it was the most important to date, and as they squared off, the nature of their relationship wavered, shifted and resettled into a place it'd never been before.

Winry wondered if this was what growing up felt like.

Edward wondered when he could stop walking on eggshells around her. "Pinako won't tell her anything, Al," he mumbled, "She wouldn't worry mom for nothing."

.

"Or she'd brag about how her talented granddaughter could repair that stove in a trice, whereas the alchemists keep eating charred meat." When neither boy answered with their usual boasting, Winry turned to check on them. Both Edward and Alphonse had their eyes glued to a passing white cloud. "I could!" she insisted.

Alphonse was the first to blink. "Sure, Win."

Winry removed her hands from their consoling position and flexed them, suddenly missing the weight of her faithful wrench. "You are awful," she complained, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Awful!"

The final straw came with Edward's snigger.

.

Winry shot up, glaring daggers at the two boys who still lingered on the grass. She knew that Ed was watching her, ready to return the favor and yank her down if she tried to leave. But she intended no such thing. "Just because I don't carry around some white chalk everywhere, doesn't mean I can't repair things too. And I don't scare little girls when I'm doing it."

Now sure that she wouldn't flee, Edward copied his brother's idea and stretched out at her feet. "You're still bringing that up?"

"We were trying to help," Alphonse joined his brother.

.

"Well." Granny had always said that she was too rash. Granny had been right. "I will help you now." Never mind that her apprenticeship at the automail shop hadn't yet passed the point where she watched her grandmother, handed tools and maybe was allowed to replace a rusty screw. Never mind that the brothers knew it as well, from the many times Winry had complained about such injustice.

Alphonse sat up, eyes a little too wide with worry. "You don't need to, Winry."

"Yeah. Please don't," Edward said, eyes closed against the sun.

Alphonse saw Winry's expression and cringed. "Brother…."

.

The warning came too late.

"I'll show you," she told them, voice even and hands joined at waist level, just like she'd seen her grandmother do when she was annoyed. The pose didn't become her, though, and it was obvious that neither brother was the least impressed. So Winry returned to more successful ways. Placing one hand on her hip, she leaned in and slapped them both across the head. Or that's what she'd meant to do, but at his brother's indignant yelp, Alphonse scrabbled back on feet and elbows.

She didn't follow, aware that a explosion was seconds away.

.

"You didn't need to do that!" Edward pushed himself into a sitting position, scowling at her all the while. "You'll just go and burn yourself and somehow we will get blamed."

He wasn't wrong. If the three of them got in trouble, everybody except Granny and Aunt Trisha would point an accusing finger to the brothers - particularly to Ed - without prior questioning. But now Winry focused on the important part of his sentence, "I won't get burned, okay?" and rapped the top of his head. "I think I can handle a damn stove!"

The swearing, though, was all Ed's fault.

.

"You're so violent sometimes," Edward groaned, rubbing his forehead as if it hurt.

Winry knew better. He used to tease her about how her weak, girly smacks wouldn't faze a fly. He'd been right; Winry Rockbell would never beat a boy in a physical match. After much deliberation, she'd chosen an Allen key as the solution. Days later, when Edward tired of the six-sided bruises and transmuted it into a chain for his bike, she'd taken her new wrench and threatened to upgrade to a hammer if he pulled another alchemy trick on her tools.

So far, it had worked.

.

Winry smiled. "Only when you deserve it," she answered.

"I was trying to be nice," he thundered, dropping his hands to stop the injured act. "See if I make the same mistake twice."

That was the worst part. That somewhere in his unique brand of logic, telling her that she was a lousy mechanic translated to looking out for her welfare. Sometimes Winry believed that, had she not known Edward since they were in diapers, she wouldn't have anything to do with him. He was so very stubborn….

"Not more than yourself, missy," Granny's perceptive comment came to her memory.

.

Alphonse looked between them, apprehensive at first but his shoulders relaxed as he studied their countenances. "It's difficult to tell when you're fighting for real," he complained, shaking his head at their antics.

"We are so!" both Edward and Winry protested in unison.

Alphonse laughed.

There was no danger when they chased or threatened each other. But it was when they closed the other out, when Edward practiced circles meant to turn whole toolkits into chain links, or Winry eyed his bike as if she was counting in how many pieces she could take it apart…. Those were dangerous waters.

.

"We should head back," Alphonse said, having caught the slow progress of the sun as his brother and their best friend squabbled. "I bet that by now everybody's looking for Winry."

"They know she's safe with us," Edward challenged, "They can wait until she's ready to go back." Neither Alphonse nor Winry mentioned that an hour ago he hadn't been so cavalier about her needs.

"But, Brother, they don't know we found her."

Edward's eyebrows furrowed. "Why else wouldn't we have joined the search already?"

Alphonse thought it over, and nodded.

Winry smiled. Trust another Elric to understand Edward's logic.

.

"Al's right," she said, straightening her dress and wincing at her dishevelment. The black cloth was torn and mud-encrusted, unfit to be worn in public. At least she'd gotten her wish; this dress belonged to the trash now. "I'm a mess."

Edward removed a leaf that'd been trapped between her sock and shoe. "Who cares?"

It was such an Ed-question, one he'd asked a thousand times in the past whenever he caught her fussing about her appearance. The usual answer came to her lips without second thought, "Grandma will; she'll…." She blinked. Dropped back onto the grass. "No, she won't."

.

She'd always remember that Edward and Alphonse had been with her when she'd opened her front door. It had been supposed to be another day, another meal with the four of them around the table. Dinner had been ready for half an hour when her grandmother had sent her to the boys' house with strict orders to drag them away from their father's study if necessary.

One word was all it had taken: stew.

The boys couldn't close their books soon enough, and they'd sprinted down the shortcut to the Rockbell house.

She still wished they'd taken the long way.

.

Winry only remembered snatches of that horrible evening. One minute she'd been teasing Ed for having arrived last at her porch (he'd been at the lead, but he'd turned around to brag and tripped over a fallen branch for his trouble). Between snickers and goading Alphonse to join her, she'd twisted the doorknob open, and then….

And then what?

Freezing at the doorstep, that she remembered well. A man rushing past her. The doctor. Him shaking his head, his thumb still looking for a pulse.

Forcing cold food down her throat.

She couldn't stand stew now. None of them could.

.

Alphonse remembered being the first to step inside. He hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted to return through that door and run home, where hope still hid in dusty books.

But Aunt Pinako was lying in the middle of the room (so much like Mother). The same thought seemed to cross his brother's mind, because Ed's wide eyes stared at the scene, as if he'd somehow entered one of his more recent nightmares.

"Granny?" Winry's voice had never been so thin.

Then Edward's fist connected with the wall, but the rest of his body wouldn't move.

And so Alphonse stepped inside.

.

'Not again!' was all Edward remembered thinking in those first moments. Then he'd seen his little brother approach Winry's grandmother and his brain had snapped into action. Something needed to be done. Anything. He just needed a moment to decide what.

The afternoon he and Alphonse had found mom, Aunt Pinako had rushed over, settled Mother into bed and sent for the doctor…. The doctor!

He hadn't even wondered why his knuckles burned until Mrs. Malcolm insisted on dressing the abrasion. Edward had marveled that anyone would bother about a scratch, snatched his hand away and raced back to Winry's.

.

That had happened three days ago. Heart failure, had been Dr. Karl's diagnostic, leaving three orphans to wonder if the biggest hearts would always be the first to fail.

**XXX**

_Alphonse's relief at the doctor's presence was short-lived. Beyond a pitying glance in Winry's direction, the man seemed more at a loss at having children in the room than the children themselves were at having a stranger invade their space and tell them that their lives had changed. Again._

_"There's nothing I can do," Dr. Karl said, avoiding their gazes._

_Edward was right. Grown-ups were useless when you most needed them._

_._

_"This isn't right," Edward muttered through clenched teeth, having arrived at the house just to see the doctor lay Pinako's wrist back on the floor and shake his head. Alphonse was crying, sitting on the carpet a few steps away from the terrible tableau. Still standing at the doorstep, knuckles white as she gripped the doorframe, Winry still hadn't shed a tear._

_Had they been like her, after mom's death? Small broken figures unwilling to accept the truth._

_(Edward flashed to the pile of books in the study, the feverish notes he made on the margins.)_

_Maybe they still were._

_._

_"Brother?"_

_Edward looked up from his plate. After the examination, the doctor had barked at them to leave the room. None of them would have ever obeyed such a command; but their nerves were too flayed and compliance seemed the easiest way. They'd followed the nightly rituals, gathering at the table and inclining their heads for a prayer that never came._

_He didn't think he'd ever take another bite of stew. "Yes, Al?"_

_The younger boy pointed at the empty seat across the table. "Winry hasn't come back."_

_"Damn it." They never should have let her out of their sight._

_._

_They looked for Winry in her room first, but she wasn't there. The automail shop was empty, too._

_"Maybe she's with Mrs. Malcolm," Alphonse suggested._

_Edward scoffed; the woman had appeared at the house with a set of bandages in one hand and a jar of salve cream in the other. Upon hearing about the death, though, she'd forgotten about his hand and directed her attention to Winry. As if Winry cared for some intruder fluttering around her now. "Nah. The old hag is with the doctor," he said, certain that their friend hadn't joined the couple. "Let's look outside."_

_._

_They found her at the limit of the Rockbell property, sitting on the grass with a big dark shape lying across her legs. At least she hadn't left on her own._

_Edward settled at her right, petting Den's snout. He had no words; he didn't believe in anything that would comfort her, and what comforted him needed to stay a secret._

_Alphonse draped the jacket he'd swiped from her room on their way out over her shoulders, then sat down and smothered a giggle when Den's wagging tail brushed against the back of his knee._

_They stayed there for hours._

**XXX**

Winry would always remember that Edward and Alphonse had been with her on that sluggish walk back to the house. She had known that her life would be reordered by the time she crossed the threshold, and she had a good idea of how things would be presented.

The doctor and his wife had offered to take the boys in after Aunt Trisha's death; but Granny had stepped in, promised to keep a close eye on the brothers. People had frowned (three rambunctious kids under an old woman's care?); but none would brave Granny's temper.

There were no obstacles now.

.

In the end, the Elric boys had been allowed to stay home. The mere suggestion to move out had led to threats of transmuting whichever house they were placed in into a rubble of stone and wood. When even Alphonse's tranquil eyes narrowed in determination, the offer had been retracted and only Winry's things had been packed and carried away.

"I shouldn't complain," Winry said now, eyes fixed on the ground. "They are nice, and they are letting me keep Den."

"You should've left her with us," Ed sniffed. "Their yard's a joke."

"I don't think that's the point, Brother."

.

"You can cry," Alphonse's caring voice soothed her nerves.

She opened her eyes to find her friends kneeling before her, concerned twin sets of golden eyes trained on her. "If I cry, it'll make Granny sad."

Edward pursed his lips, but didn't contradict her.

Alphonse put his hand on hers, and only then did she notice that she'd fisted her hand so tightly that her short nails were digging into her palm. "Sometimes it helps," he said.

She expected the older brother to snort at such a notion. When he didn't, Winry turned toward him but he was looking away.

.

"Does it, Ed?"

Edward ignored his brother's nod and shrugged. "Not really." He pointed to the miniature river before them. "Tears are salt and water."

And water didn't care.

"I see." Winry pulled herself to her feet, now careless of her appearance, and began her way back to town. She could hear the brothers arguing behind her; Alphonse berating his brother for the lack of support, Edward maintaining his position. Then they realized she was leaving, and rushed to her side.

Winry took their hands and together they stepped through the bushes.

Water may not care.

But they always would.

_

* * *

_

_**The End**  
14/09/08_

___

* * *

_


	3. Unfreeze, Ep07 rewrite

**DISCLAIMER:** Arakawa leads; I follow.  
**SUMMARY:** Alternate telling of Night of the Chimera's Cry (first anime!). Another major event in the lives of Edward and Winry.  
**WORDCOUNT:** ~1800  
**THANK YOU:** To Sharon, for the beta!

_Written for **fireandice2009**. prompt: **cold as ice.**_

* * *

**(UN)FREEZE  
**_by Leni_

* * *

Central is so cold, this close to sundown.

Edward has wandered through the city for hours, a lost confused soul among so many. He can trace his life through the losses that have shaped it. When his mother died, his mind was swallowed into flames, bursting through his waking hours and fueling him into action. When Grandma Pinako followed suit, he hid from his brother and their best friend and cried until he thought he could measure the moisture of a small human body by the amount of his tears. When Al vanished…. When Al vanished, Edward spent weeks in bed, wishing his heart could become stone just so it wouldn't hurt so damn much.

He hasn't lost anyone this time (he doesn't think so). Those drones would have let him know, wouldn't they? At least Armstrong would have told him if there'd been any change in Nina's condition... Such a small body. No sign of the sweet beaming girl had been in that body when he'd picked her up. How could anyone hurt all that innocence?

It was such a close call. And this time it would have been his own fault, for not being more observant, for not noticing that the man he and Winry had trusted was a monster in disguise. There is no fire anymore, the fight has fled his body. No chance to escape his emotions, he's learned at least that much about himself.

Now Edward only feels the silence, a coating of ice enveloping his heart and reaching into its depths as he forces one leg after the other.

He should have known better than to trust someone else - anyone. No matter how smart, or how kind, or how a father's face softened at the sight of his child.

He should have known better than to trust _Winry_ to anyone else. What if it'd been her on that floor? What if....?

He should have known better. Period.

But he didn't. And if he had lost Winry…. Edward looks around, at the strangers passing by him, at the buildings and the cars, and he knows: Come dawn, either the city or the Fullmetal Alchemist would have been obliterated.

He would have brought her back, damn the consequences.

"Ed?"

Edward looks up at the sound of his name. He's been wandering around Central ever since he escaped the military questioning. Even Armstrong looked troubled when he came back from checking the remains in the basement study. The others were worse; they may have heard stories, tales about his alchemy that most think absurdly exaggerated until they witness it, but now that they'd seen and retched over what the Fullmetal Alchemist could do, they grew afraid. Back in Headquarters, he was given him such a wide berth that in other circumstances, Edward would have laughed at trained soldiers being intimidated by a fifteen-year-old boy. "Boo," he'd growled at the gate guard, and a part of him had enjoyed the man's effort not to jump away.

The rest of him has prowled around the city for hours. He's walked past unknown stores and down countless alleys, trying to shrug off those men's reaction.

His lips abandon their scowl, even when they can't be pulled into a smile. It's all right; she isn't smiling either, Edward thinks as he discovers a familiar blue gaze waiting for him at the porch. Winry is sitting on the top step, her clothes the same as when he last saw her.

No reproach, no fear. No questions.

Except one.

"Did you kill him?"

This isn't a conversation to have in such a public venue. Even the soldiers who arrived at the scene took him away to the guest room to escape curious scrutiny. No, a porch where last weekend he made a fumbling attempt at carrying a baby and then dumped the squealing bundle into Winry's lap, is no place for this conversation.

And yet the alternative is worse.

From his position, Edward can see the light peeking down the Hughes' front door. They'd have accepted that Winry preferred to wait for him outside, away from other people's eyes; she wouldn't have given them a choice. Because people shake their heads, tut in disapproval and try to hide a smile when they think that Edward Elric is being stubborn; but they throw their arms to the heavens and pray for patience when Winry Rockbell digs in her heels.

Winry is never more adamant about getting things her way than when she is trying to protect him - even from himself (he has the bruises to prove that). She would have known better than to force witnesses on him today. Gracia would have fluttered around him, offered a warm meal after such a beastly ordeal; Hughes would have sworn to take his side before their superiors.

The Hughes are smart, kind people who love their child.

He wonders how Winry can stomach to think of what might lay under the façade. But then, she wasn't there for the worst of it. He never let her into that sick plateau at the studio, never let her see more than a glimpse before he had hauled the little girl's body out of the circle, shoved Nina at Winry and raised a wall between them. She hadn't seen Tucker's clear-eyed insanity, hadn't listened to words that Edward had half-thought to himself over many a sleepless night.

Winry hadn't understood that the man - the murderer - they'd walked in on, was nothing but a reflection of the future any alchemist could face if… if…. Tucker had thrown the first hit before Ed could work out what was stopping him from following the man's path. Winry hadn't seen any of it. Winry hadn't felt the cold invade her soul, hadn't had her heart freeze in her chest as she discovered the scary similarity between the enemy and herself.

"I killed him," Edward answers, watching her carefully. He and Tucker are not the same. Despite what every officer and soldier thought of him at the scene, despite the suspicion in their eyes and the deep-seated anxiety that all alchemists are the same, _he and Tucker are not_.

Right?

If he thought his heart could move, it would be racing into his ribcage. But Winry's gaze doesn't flit away from him, doesn't avoid the weight of his golden eyes. His shoulders relax even as the scene flashes through his mind again.

The bruises hadn't had time to flourish before it was done…. What a mess he'd made.

She gives a small nod, and Edward has to work not to fall on his knees to thank her. They are still Ed and Winry. Life made them fit each other, in part because nobody else would take them, but mostly because they'd been halfway there since the moment they met. Edward doesn't care about the whispers, or about Havoc's taunts, or the grins when she walks with him in Central Headquarters. His one care is that, no matter how much they change from the kids who left Resembool so many months ago, they change together.

As long as Winry is with him, he cannot be following the path into madness.

Winry hugs the half finished stuffed toy she and her little helper have been working on for the last week. A big white dog, still without ears or eyes. "I'm glad." Her eyes close, and Ed wonders if she's reliving their last moments in Tucker's house.

Had she heard the man's ramblings? The happy skip in his voice as he revealed he'd have taken Winry, if Tucker had thought he could have stolen her from under Edward? That Tucker _had tried_ and failed?

That had been the moment when Ed stopped pulling his punches.

"How's Nina?"

Winry lets out a small sigh. "They wouldn't release her into the Hughes' custody. Gracia tried."

Maybe smart, kind people do exist.

"Did she wake up at all?"

Winry shakes her head. Bites her lip. Scraps of fluff escape the toy as she squeezes it. "Mr. Hughes wouldn't tell me, but I know. They're keeping her to see if anything happened. They asked how far the transmutation had gone, Ed; I said I didn't know. That you'd closed me away. That I didn't understand alchemy." Any other time, they'd have chuckled at the understatement. Now she pulls her knees to her chest and lifts her eyes to him. "But it was bright in that room, Ed. The circle was active. He was already…." He hasn't seen her burst into tears since Pinako's passing. "That fucking bastard."

Any other time, Edward would have teased that she was picking his bad habits. Now he takes a second to mourn the loss of an epithet against Mustang, and starts walking toward her. "He won't hurt Nina again." He sits next to her, loops his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. He's learned the hard way that girls need so much more physical contact than boys. "I won't let anyone hurt Nina again," Ed promises with that edge that the foolish call bravado, and every opponent has recognized as determination.

"They'll use her," Winry says, her voice as cold as he feels inside. "If it was even partially done, they'll use her."

"They won't," he answers, a reflex. Later, he'll mull over the possibility that he still wants to trust people. "She's just a little girl."

"Like we're just teenagers?" Winry takes a deep breath at the end of her question, but even then he feels tears drop onto his bare arm. "What _are_ we doing, Ed?"

"We're getting Al back." A mission statement as simple as the day they boarded the train to Central. "And now we are adding Nina to the list."

Not so simple anymore. Not if Winry is right (and she always is).

Doesn't matter. They've managed impossible odds before; they always do.

"Whatever happens." Her half of an oath. Because nothing would stop her from walking at his side, and he needs to hear it.

His part comes next, "We stick together." Because Edward's forbidden to leave Winry behind, and he doesn't dare contemplate the consequences were he to disobey. So he's learned to watch where his next step will land them, and the tendency to recklessness has been smothered in order to keep her safe.

"I don't want to go in yet," she murmurs when they hear the front door opening.

Edward brings her closer, so close that he can feel his heart being thawed by her warmth, and shakes his head at the woman at the door.

Gracia nods in understanding, doesn't press. "There'll be something in the oven for you."

He doesn't even need Winry to nudge him. "Thank you." Then he turns and buries his nose into her blond head. She smells like hospital corridors and hours at the porch, waiting for him. "Thank _you_."

The lock makes a sound as it slips into place, but Ed wants to believe it's the crack of ice starting to melt.

* * *

**The End  
**25/12/10


End file.
